


Thundersnow

by incognitoburrito



Series: It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year: 2018 Christmas Specials [2]
Category: Big Hero 6 (2014), Coco (2017)
Genre: Aged-Up Hiro Hamada, Aged-Up Miguel Rivera, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Dead Tadashi Hamada, Gay, Gay Sex, Hallucinations, Handcuffs, Hiro Hamada is a Little Shit, Hiro is a Little Shit, Hiro's a kinky bitch, Homosexuality, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Light Angst, M/M, Male Homosexuality, NSFW, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Sex Toys, Spanking, This is a very special Christmas, Vibrators, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-28 17:43:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17187488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitoburrito/pseuds/incognitoburrito
Summary: Seventeen-year-old Hiro spends his first Christmas (without Tadashi) with his longtime boyfriend Miguel. Due to his PTSD, whenever he hears thunder, he has a panic attack. The San Fransokyo thundersnow is loud tonight, and Miguel does everything he can to comfort him. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)





	Thundersnow

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Yeah, I'm aware this is posted after Christmas, but it's still December, so as far as I'm concerned, Christmas is still relevant.
> 
> Slight trigger warning for those of you with any anxiety/panic disorder or PTSD. I'm not sure if the content in this fanfic is triggering (honestly it's probably only about 75% accurate; I did some Googling but probably not enough Googling) but if it _does_ trigger you, please stop reading. I wouldn't want to cause any harm to my readers.
> 
> Also known as Miguel being the world's best boyfriend and dropping everything at 1:00 in the morning to be with Hiro.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Also, I know that I've used the "show me how much you love me" cliché too frequently to lead into the smut of my fics, but I honestly couldn't think of a better way to start the NSFW scene, and I needed to post this chapter quickly haha. Sorry about that.~~

#  **THUNDERSNOW**

##  **DECEMBER 24 - 1:00 am**

Hiro sat in bed anxiously, scrolling down his contact list until he saw Miguel’s photo, next to the name **osito de goma <3** . He tapped it and pressed the green phone icon, calling him. He held the phone up to his ear, listening to the phone ring once, twice, three times before Miguel picked up. _“¿Amor?”_

Ever since Tadashi, Hiro’s older brother, died in a fire at his school, Hiro had been shutting out the most important people in his life, which included his boyfriend. He insisted that he didn’t need help, that he wanted to be alone, that he could get over it. Of course, he was terribly wrong. His adamant behavior damaged his relationships with his Aunt Cass, his best friends and his boyfriend, and he was trying to repair them. He was ashamed of his mental state since Tadashi’s death; he was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) a short time ago because he witnessed the moment Tadashi died. After his diagnosis, Hiro decided it would be best to let these important people back into his life. He was hoping Miguel wouldn't be too mad at him. It was clear he was hurt, but he didn’t know if Miguel would forgive him so quickly.

“Miguel?” Hiro’s voice was soft, quiet and apprehensive. Almost no one got to hear him speak like this very often.

“Hiro? It’s one o’clock, why are you up?” Miguel’s voice was groggy, as if he’d just woken up.

“I feel kind of bad for asking you this in the middle of the night,” Hiro says, getting out of his bed and pacing around his room. His Aunt Cass wasn’t home tonight, but he still wanted to be quiet. Maybe it was so he didn’t bother Tadashi, even though he knew very well that he wasn’t here anymore. “I’m really sorry I’ve been treating you like shit lately. I...was too proud to ask for your help.”

 _“Sí, eres muy estupido,”_ Miguel quips. Hiro smiles at the remark; he had been studying his Spanish, so he knew what that sentence meant. “I mean, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you or anything. The things you said hurt, but I shouldn’t blame you. You’ve been traumatized.”

“No, that’s not an excuse,” Hiro counters. “But thanks.”

“Of course, _mi amor,_ ” Miguel says.

“But there’s something I wanted to ask you,” Hiro says. “I was wondering if you’d come over and spend some time with me?” He cringes at how dumb that sounds; it’s fucking _one in the morning._ This could definitely wait until a more reasonable time. “It’s just--I want to mend our relationship. I really feel shitty for what I did to you.”

The line went silent for a few minutes, and Hiro wanted to yeet himself out a window for sounding so dumb. The hairs rose on his neck when Miguel finally responded. “Of course,” he said emphatically. He could hear Miguel getting out of his bed and walking, as the floor beneath his feet was creaking loudly.

“Really?” Hiro could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“Yeah! We’re seventeen, we can do what we want,” Miguel tells him. “I’m on my way now.”

Hiro exhaled sharply with relief. “Oh, okay.” He really didn’t think Miguel was going to say yes; this was practically a miracle. “So, I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah.” Hiro could hear Miguel pulling on his coat. _“Te amo, mi corazón.”_

Hiro blushed. “Love you, too.” The call ended, and Hiro placed his phone back in his pocket as he rushed down the stairs and began preparing for his boyfriend to come over.

* * *

 

The Japanese teenager almost jumped out of his skin when he heard knocking on the front door. He runs a hand through his messy hair and opens the door, immediately overwhelmed by the cold weather outside. Miguel was standing there, wearing a red winter hat, coat, and blue jeans. His hands were kept warm with black gloves, and they were holding a small, purple box with a ribbon on top. His name, _Hiro Hamada_ , was written out in beautiful, cursive penmanship. _“Hola, mi amor,”_ Miguel said sweetly. “Merry Christmas.”

Hiro smiled widely and pulled his boyfriend into a tight embrace. “Hi, sweetheart.” He takes his hand and leads him inside.

Miguel gives him the small gift box he’d been holding. “I got you something,” he says. “I hope you like it. I worked really hard on it.”

He blushed as his mind swam with possibilities as to what could possibly be inside. “Thanks,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I got you something too.” He takes his hand and leads him to the living room. “Come on.”

Miguel and Hiro go to the living room, which was already illuminated by the many lights strung up on the ceiling and the beautiful Christmas tree. It was six or seven feet tall, and it was clear that whoever decorated it knew what they were doing. “Damn, who did the tree?” Miguel asked, clearly impressed.

Hiro smiled. “My Aunt Cass did it,” he says. “She spent like, three days on it, trying to make everything perfect.”

“She did a really good job.”

Hiro got on his knees and searched for the wrapped gift box with Miguel’s name on it, making sure to be very careful with it, as it was fragile. Just like Miguel, Hiro had been working for months on his gift for Miguel. “Thanks, I’ll tell her you said that.” He turned to his boyfriend, holding the box in his hands, setting it down on the coffee table gently. “Do you wanna open the presents _now_ or do something else first?”

Miguel bites his lip. “I think I want you to open your present,” he says. “I really think you’ll enjoy it.”

Hiro sat down on the sofa and untied the ribbon that was on it. “What is it?” he asked.

“Open it, you’ll see.” Miguel smiled as he anxiously awaited Hiro to see what was inside.

Hiro ripped the wrapping paper off of the box and opened it. His heart stopped when he looked inside. It was a small CD case with a picture of him and Miguel on the front, kissing each other. In Miguel’s cursive penmanship, the words _For My Hiro_ are written above. Below, the words _To: mi amor, Hiro, from Miguel_.

Hiro took the CD case out of the box and stared at the art on the front. When he turned it to the back, he saw another photo of them that he recognized. It was from Miguel’s sixteenth birthday. He had cake all over his face because his family had been chanting “¡Mordida! ¡Mordida!” over and over until they finally shoved his face into the cake. Hiro had his arm wrapped around him as he took a small bit of cake from his face with his finger and ate it. Next to the nostalgic photo, a list of sixteen songs were written out neatly in small, loopy letters that must’ve been Miguel’s handwriting.

  1. **For My Hiro**
  2. **When We First Met**
  3. **Creep (Radiohead Cover)**
  4. **When You Spent the Night**
  5. **The Light in Your Eyes**
  6. **My Broken Angel**
  7. **Escape From This World**
  8. **Tus Ojos Marrones**
  9. **Este Amor Tan Fuerte**
  10. **Un Poco Loco**
  11. **La Llorona**
  12. **Milagro**
  13. **No Puedo Vivir Sin Ti**
  14. **El Niño Perdido**
  15. **Con Todo Mi Corazón**
  16. **Espero Que Sepas**



Hiro looked up at his boyfriend, eyes suddenly watery. “Miguel, did you--”

“It’s an album. About us,” he says, scooting closer to him. “The first eight songs are in English, the last eight are in Spanish. I wrote and sang all of them, except for ‘Creep’.”

Hiro was in shock. He didn’t think anyone would ever get him a gift that put so much _thought_ into it. “How long did this take you?”

“I’ve been working on it since January,” Miguel says.

Hiro bites his lip to keep the tears from pouring over his face. “Miguel...this is…” He trailed off, at a loss for words. Nobody had _ever_ gotten him a better present. “This is the best present I’ve ever been given. Thank you.”

Miguel’s expression brightens and he kisses Hiro on his temple. “I’m glad you like it.”

Hiro scoffs. “How could I _not?!_ I mean, Miguel, this is an _entire album_ that you made for me! This puts all of the other gifts I’ve gotten you to shame.”

“Oh, shut the hell up,” Miguel says. “I’m gonna love your present.”

“No, you’re _not,_ ” Hiro says. The words came out like a groan, but it was clear he wasn’t upset. “I’m not even sure if it _works._ ”

 _Works?_ Miguel raised an eyebrow at that choice of words. _Is it something he...built?_ “What is it?”

“Hang on, you’ll get to open it soon,” Hiro says, standing up, still trying to hold back tears. “Where’s the goddamn CD player?” he thinks aloud, walking around the living room, trying to find it. “We haven’t had to use it in years.”

“Doesn’t your laptop have a disc drive?” he asks.

“No, it’s too thin for one,” Hiro responds. “Maybe Aunt Cass still has one in the basement. I’ll be right back.”

Hiro quickly ran down the staircase to reach the basement floor. It was divided into two large rooms: the first, he called the living room (even though they already had one upstairs) and the second was the laundry room. The washing machine was still on, and its loud noises filled the room as he turned on the light and searched the shelves for a CD player.

As he was looking around, his vision landed on an old shoebox discreetly tucked behind two other boxes. It was black, and he knew _exactly_ what was inside. It hadn’t been opened in a while, because they needed to be completely alone to use it, and time alone didn’t come frequently. Recalling the last night they were able to use it caused heat to rise to his cheeks.

They were sixteen. It was the first time they’d seen each other since Miguel traveled to Santa Cecilia to visit the rest of his family. He was staying overnight at the Lucky Cat Cafe so he could spend some time with Hiro. Everyone else was asleep, and it was very early in the morning. Hiro had gotten this shoebox filled with...tools he had bought from a certain vendor nobody needed to know about. Needless to say, neither of them got any sleep that night.

He was hoping they’d be able to use that box later tonight, should everything go well with him.

A few minutes went by until he finally found an old boombox that looked like it still might be able to work. He blew the dust off of it and brought it upstairs, plugging it in next to the couch and setting it next to the coffee table. He opened the CD case and put the disc in, making sure the volume wasn’t turned up too high. Once the disc loaded and the small screen on the boombox said “CD” on it, Hiro skipped until the screen said “3” on it. He wanted to hear Miguel’s cover of “Creep” by Radiohead.

Immediately, it was clear to Hiro this was not recorded with Miguel’s phone or laptop, the way he normally records songs. The sound was crystal-clear and beautiful, and his guitar clearly wasn’t the only instrument used. It sounded like it was recorded in a studio. Miguel’s version of this song was soft and dulcet, and the beat was slow and steady. Miguel vocalized for the first few seconds, and began singing the lyrics.

**_“When you were here before…”_ **

_Oh God,_ he wanted to cry and scream and jump at how _fucking beautifully_ this boy sang. It was insane how much power his voice was able to transmit through a speaker. Hiro felt a lump being to form in his throat; he hated crying in front of people, but this music was so _moving_ , he decided he didn’t care if he sobbed like a baby.

His voice was silky smooth and soothing, and it sent goosebumps down his spine. It had deepened from when he first started singing as a 12-year-old. The growth he had made in six years as an artist was unbelievable, and it shone through with this song.

**_“I couldn’t look you in the eeeeeyes…”_ **

_HOLY. FUCK._ The way his voice makes the word “eyes” sound...Hiro was at a total loss for words. He didn't know how to describe the happiness and elation he got from a simple song.

**_“You're just like an angel, your skin makes me cryyyy…”_ **

Hiro's heart was thudding out of his chest now. He couldn't wrap head around how it was possible for a single human to have so much talent.

**_“You float like a feather in a beautiful world, and I wish I were special. You're so very speeeeeciaaaaal!”_ **

**_“But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo! What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here…”_ **

Hiro hoped that Miguel didn't relate to the chorus of the lyrics. Miguel _was_ special. He was the one that put this amount of thought into a Christmas gift. He was the one who desperately wanted to help him when Tadashi died and there was suddenly a big hole in his life. He was the one that made the miracles in Hiro's life happen. He would refuse to allow Miguel to think anything different.

Hiro didn't realize tears were streaming down his face until the chorus ended and the next verse started.

**_“I don't care if it hurts. I want to have control, I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul! And I want you to notice when I'm not around, you're so very speeciaal! I wish I was speeeeeciaaaal! But I'm a creep!”_ **

Hiro stared at the boom box as he contemplated the lyrics. Miguel _did_ have a perfect body. Miguel _did_ have a perfect soul. He wasn't a creep in his eyes in the slightest. He was more special than Hiro was. All Hiro ever did was sit around on his computer, working on nerdy shit. Miguel was the one who was truly creative, who wanted to share—no, _bless_ others with his gift of songwriting.

**_“I'm a weirdo! What the hell am I doing here?! I don't belong here!”_ **

Oh God. Hiro knew what part was about to come next. If he wasn't already in tears, this part of the song would surely send him into an uncontrollable fit of sobs.

**_“He's running out the doooooor, he's running, run, ruuuun, ruuuuuun, ruuuuuuuuuun! Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun!”_ **

Hiro was definitely overcome with emotion now. Miguel's voice was so angelic during the bridge of the song, and the amount of time he held the notes for was mind-numbingly shocking. He was so lucky to have him in his life.

**_“Whatever makes you happy, whatever you want. You're so very special, I wish I was speeciaal, but I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here, I don't belong here.”_ **

The final verse of the song was soft and mellow, quieter than the rest of the song. It made Hiro's heart ache, how Miguel sounded like he really _meant_ the words he sang.

Hiro pressed the pause button so the next song wouldn't play as he turned to Miguel and looked at him. Miguel had tears in his eyes as well. “Did you like it?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Hiro almost shouts through his tears. “That was fucking amazing! I don't—” Hiro didn't have words to express how happy he was that he existed. Miguel's very presence was a godsend. “I can't tell you how happy I am. Really, thank you, love.”

Hiro instinctively pulls Miguel into a kiss, soft and gentle, just the way Miguel liked it. “I love you so fucking much,” Hiro whispers.

“I'm so glad you liked it,” Miguel says, wiping away his tears. “Do you know how much it would've sucked ass if I worked on this and you hated it?”

Hiro laughs. “I could never hate anything you give me. Besides, you're so talented, you couldn't write a bad song if you tried.”

Miguel smiles. “Thanks, _mi amor.”_ He looks at the gift on the coffee table. “So, what'd you get me?”

Hiro groans. “With that present, I'm afraid I didn't get you enough.” He grabs the fragile gift box and hands it to his boyfriend. “Be careful, it's fragile.”

“Fragile? What did you get me?” Miguel raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I actually made it,” Hiro says.

Miguel looks up at him before he finishes ripping off the wrapping paper with curiosity. He looks down at his gift and sees a cardboard box. “Oh God, how fragile is it?”

Hiro shrugs. “You should be able to throw it on the ground from ten feet in the air without a scratch, but I'm just paranoid.”

“Did you build something?”

“Finish opening the gift.”

Miguel snickered at his response. A minute goes by before he pulls out yet another cardboard box. “Jesus,” he murmured as he opened the new box.

It was inside this second box that he finally found what awaited him. Miguel’s eyes widen when he sees what Hiro _definitely_ built for him. Incredulously, he looks up at his boyfriend. “You didn't.”

“I did.”

Miguel gasped as he pulled out a small black device from the box, along with a pair of wireless earbuds and a USB charger. “You built me a phone.”

“Yeah. And it's unlocked, so you can use it with any carrier.”

Miguel was speechless. The only thing he could say was, “Why would you do this?”

“Because I know that you hate your phone cause it's super slow and old. And also because I love you more than life.” Hiro said that last part with a sarcastic and playful tone even though he was dead serious.

Miguel smiled wide. “I… don't even know what to say.”

Hiro hugged him again and kissed his neck. “You don't have to. Seeing your face right now is like your gift to me.”

Miguel wanted to cry his damn eyes out. Hiro's words were incredibly heartwarming and sweet. Hiro almost never showed this vulnerable, unapologetically caring side of himself to anyone. “I love you. Thank you so much.”

Hiro kissed his cheek. “Of course, gummy bear. I love you too.”

Miguel relished in the warmth of his hug, reeling from the use of the rare pet name. He only called him “gummy bear” during those sweet, intimate moments when they were alone. Like this one, he supposed.

* * *

 

Miguel and Hiro got cozy on the sofa and watched “How The Grinch Stole Christmas” while eating gummy bears and popcorn. Hiro was nearly asleep on Miguel's chest until he was suddenly and unexpectedly snapped awake by the incredibly loud thundersnow outside.

Hiro immediately leaped out of his seat and began sobbing his eyes out. A shooting pain abruptly began torturing him in his chest, he felt like a migraine was coming on, and he thought he was going to vomit.

Miguel recognised what this was immediately—Hiro was having a panic attack. This was common for people with PTSD; he had read about it while Hiro was still pushing him away, so he knew how to confront these things well.

Miguel reminded himself to remain calm and of the fifteen things he needed to keep in mind in order to take care of someone having a panic attack. He knew that Hiro was scared out of his mind and he wouldn't be able to explain why, and he also knew that he would have to he very careful with his words, as a single word could make the difference between help and harm.

 _“Amor,”_ Miguel said, trying to get his attention since Hiro was facing the opposite direction. “Do you want to go downstairs?”

Hiro tried to stand up, only to be jumpscared again by another round of thundersnow. Hiro screamed and fell to the floor again in another round of unceasing tears. “Yes!” he sobbed, barely intelligible.

Miguel walked over to Hiro and gently took his hand, helping him get back on his feet and quickly getting him to the basement, where the thundersnow would be much quieter. He fell onto the futon and curled up into a fetal position, a look of pure terror etched on his face. “I'm going to get your meds, okay, love?” Miguel didn't wait for Hiro's answer; he ran up the stairs and immediately went for the medicine cabinet (he remembered where it was since he took care of Hiro when he had a cold once), searching for an orange bottle that had Hiro's name on it. He quickly found one that had the words “HIRO HAMADA - FLUOXETINE” on it. Fluoxetine was a medicine that can treat panic disorder; this must've been prescribed to him. Upon closer inspection, he saw the date “12/03/2018” was written. These were definitely the correct meds; they were prescribed to him just this month.

He closed the cabinet and immediately went back downstairs, gently sitting on the sofa next to Hiro. “My love,” he said softly, trying to lull him into a sense of security. “How many pills are you supposed to take for a panic attack?”

Hiro was shaking. He wasn't sobbing hysterically anymore, but he was clearly still in extreme emotional, mental, and physical pain. “Two,” he whispered.

Miguel opened the container and poured out two pills, putting them in his palm. “Can you sit up, love?”

Hiro uses his arms to prop himself up into a sitting position, then swallows the pills. “Thank you,” he says. His voice sounds strained.

Miguel smiled. “Of course, _mi corazon._ Anything for you.” He suddenly remembered a method of dealing with anxiety known as _grounding._ It was supposed to help people when they feel they have lost control of their surroundings. “Hey, Hiro?”

“Mm?” Hiro looked lost and afraid.

“Have you heard of this thing called grounding?”

Miguel suddenly noticed Hiro's erratic breathing patterns, common in panic attacks. He knew that getting him to control his breathing would be an ordeal, but would also be super important. “I think someone told me about it once,” Hiro breathes, looking like he's trying to get a grip on reality again.

“It's an exercise for anxiety,” Miguel explains. “Would you like to try it?”

Hiro blinks twice. “Okay.” He sounds very distant, like he's not present.

Miguel grabs his hand and squeezes it lightly. “Okay. I want you to look around the room.”

Hiro, still visibly shaking and breathless, analyzes the room with his eyes. “Find five things that you can see. Point them out and tell me what they are.”

He points at various items in the room, naming them out loud. “The futon. The table. The TV. The wall. You.”

Miguel smiled sweetly. “Good. Now, find four things you can touch, then touch them and tell me what they are.”

Hiro immediately turned around and grabbed Miguel's arm. “You.” He slowly bends down and touches the carpet. “The floor.” Hiro walks over to the other side of the room. “The mirror.” Miguel noted that he hadn't noticed the mirror before. “This book.” Hiro held up a novel that must've belonged to his Aunt Cass.

“Good.” Miguel beamed and approached his boyfriend, softly running his fingers along his arm. “Now, find three things you can hear. Tell me what they are.”

Hiro's hands came up to touch Miguel's jawline. “You.” Hiro walks across the room and turns on the TV, using the remote that was on the table next to the futon. Miguel took his ability to find the remote so quickly as a sign that he was coming back to reality and that the attack might be beginning to subside. “The TV.” Hiro looks down and takes his phone out of his pocket. “My phone.”

“Great,” Miguel says, content that the exercise seems to be working. He walks closer to Hiro and tentatively presses a kiss to his cheek. “Now, find two things you can smell, and tell me what they are.”

Hiro’s breathing pattern is beginning to concern Miguel more and more, as he looks like he’s returning to reality, but he’s still hyperventilating. “The candle,” he says, picking it up to show him and setting it down. Hiro turns to Miguel again and runs a hand through his hair. “You.”

Miguel felt himself relax at Hiro’s touch, and how he was still thinking about him in this state of fear. “Good,” he said. “Find one thing you can taste.”

Hiro immediately grabbed Miguel’s shirt and pulled Miguel’s lips to his. The kiss was long, allowing him to taste the emotion that bled through. Hiro was obviously still scared and vulnerable, and his breathing still wasn’t under control. When they broke apart, Hiro murmured, “You.”

Miguel pulled Hiro into a hug. He knew it had to be soft so as not to trigger him or scare him further. “Do you feel any better?”

“I guess… I dunno…” Hiro spoke as if he were wandering around a forest without a flashlight. “Thanks, though.”

Miguel softly kissed his neck. He knew what he would have to do next, and it would be incredibly difficult. “Sweetheart, your breathing is still erratic. Can you try to sync your breathing with mine?”

Panic settled in Hiro's chest. _He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this. This was impossible. He could never do this._ “N—no,” Hiro pants, beginning to look like he's losing control of his surroundings again. Hiro coiled into a fetal position, sideways on the floor. He looked like someone with claustrophobia was trapped inside a small closet even though this was a very big room. He had a crazy look in his eye as if he were being hypnotized, and he was staring at… the wall behind Miguel.

Miguel turns around only to see nothing, but Hiro really appears to be staring at something—perhaps he was hallucinating. I “Hiro?” Miguel says softly. “Hiro, what are you looking at?” It was important to approach hallucination with calmness and mental rationality, to not be aggressive and tell them to _snap out of it._ “My love, can you tell me what’s happening?” Miguel was hoping the terms of endearment he always used for Hiro might help him calm down a bit.

Miguel hadn’t seen Hiro this terrified of anything in his whole life, and it was breaking his heart. Hiro continued to whimper in fear, trying to back away from whatever he thought was approaching him even though his back was already against the wall. Through his continued crying, he said, “The--there’s a demon b--behind y--you. It’s g--gonna _hurt_ m--me...just like it h--hurt T--Tadashi.”

Miguel kneeled beside him and caressed his face while trying to be as careful as possible. _“Mi corazón,_ you’re hallucinating,” he whispers. “That demon’s not real. I can’t see it.”

Hiro furrows his eyebrows. “But… but…”

“Your mind is just playing games with you. No one’s gonna hurt you. You’re safe here, with me.” Miguel’s arms wrap around Hiro’s shaking frame, trying to calm him down and comfort him. Hiro sinks into the touch, wanting nothing more than to drown himself in him. Miguel was an angel, too good for this world. He didn’t deserve him.

* * *

 

About thirty minutes went by, and the panic attack finally subsided. Hiro was no longer screaming, panicking, or hallucinating, but he was still every bit as shook.

Miguel and Hiro didn’t return upstairs. They stayed downstairs, since neither of them knew if the thunderstorm had subsided, and they didn’t want to risk Hiro having another panic attack. They didn’t do anything else other than snuggle up on the sofa and enjoy each other’s company.

Hiro’s head rested on Miguel’s chest. His eyelids were droopy and he felt like he wanted to sleep, but he also wanted to stay awake. He wanted to cherish the time he had with his boyfriend on Christmas Eve. Trying to keep himself awake, Hiro pressed a few kisses to Miguel’s neck and looked up at him. “Do you know if the thundersnow is done?”

Miguel knew Hiro must’ve wanted to get something from upstairs. “Do you want me to go check?”

Hiro nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

Miguel stood up. “Okay. Be right back.” As he walked up the stairs, he glanced at Hiro to make sure he was okay. He wasn’t sure if leaving him alone would trigger another panic attack, even if it was only for a minute.

When Miguel reached the end of the stairs, he opened the door and went into the living room to look out a window. He saw that the weather outside was considerably less threatening now. There was no more thundersnow, but there was a furious blizzard outside.

Miguel walked back down the stairs. “The thundersnow is gone, but there’s a really bad blizzard outside. Do you want to go back upstairs or stay down here?”

Hiro thought for a moment. “Kinda wanna stay down here. But can you bring down our presents we left upstairs?” Hiro looked down shamefully, afraid of sounding like a baby with the questions he’s asking. “And a glass of water, maybe?”

Miguel smiled sweetly. “Of course.” He quickly ran back up the stairs and retrieved the items he’d asked for, including some gummy bears in case he wanted them.

When he returned downstairs, Hiro still appeared normal, and Miguel was grateful he had remained mentally stable while he was gone. “I also got you some gummy bears while I was up there,” he says, kissing his cheek.

Hiro beamed. “Thanks, gummy bear.” Miguel was too sweet to him. He grabbed the gift he’d given Miguel and said, “You can start using the gift now, by the way. The battery’s at half-charge.”

“Okay.” Miguel takes the black device out of the plastic container it was in and holds it in his hand. It was small, about the same size as his old phone, which warmed his heart since Hiro knew that Miguel preferred small phones. He once had a phone that was six inches tall and he _hated_ it. It also had a decent weight to it, which he also liked, because heavy phones were easier to feel in your pocket. It also had a headphone jack, which was a rare commodity in the latest smartphones. He held down the power button on the right side of the phone to turn it on.

The phone buzzed and quickly powered on with a pleasant startup piano jingle. He was greeted with a welcome screen that asked him to input all the basic information--WiFi network, language, email, et cetera. It was simpler than he’d anticipated.

“Take a picture,” Hiro said eagerly with a big smile, as if he was waiting for Miguel to see some sort of surprise.

He raised an eyebrow as he opened the Camera app. “Okay.” He looks down at the screen, only to be absolutely blown away by the stunning image quality on the camera viewfinder. His brain almost broke trying to process how it could look so crystal-clear and clean, especially in a low-light environment like this basement. “How did you do this?” he asked incredulously.

“It took me a good three months to figure out,” Hiro says casually. “But eventually I was able to find a way to fit a high-quality low-light camera in less than one square inch without a camera bump on the back.” He grinned. “Take a picture of me.”

Miguel turned around and quickly snapped a photo of his boyfriend, opening the image afterwards. The image might as well have been taken by a high-quality, ten-thousand-dollar camera. The _detail_ in the image was mind-blowing; he could see the individual strands of hair on Hiro’s head--and given the amount of hair he had, that was saying something. “This is _amazing,”_ Miguel exhaled.

Hiro shrugged. “Thanks, but I could’ve done better.”

Miguel scoffed. “Shut the hell up! I _love_ it!” He grabbed Hiro’s face and kissed him. His lips tasted urgent, as if he _really wanted_ to get this message across.

Hiro smiled when he broke away. “Thanks for liking it.” Miguel hugged his body tightly and rested his head on his shoulder. Nobody could’ve given him a better Christmas present.

“No, thank _you,”_ Miguel says. “You’re an angel for doing this for me.”

“No, _you’re_ the angel.” Hiro cringed a bit internally, since he wasn’t as corny as Miguel was. But there wasn’t anyone here to judge them, so he decided there wasn’t a reason not to. Besides, it was Christmastime.

Miguel nuzzled Hiro’s face, pulling him into an embrace as Miguel fell sideways onto the sofa, bringing his boyfriend down with him. They were now lying down, in each other’s arms. “I really love you.” Miguel closed his eyes. “I know I’ve said it a million times over, but I need you to know that.”

“You’re cheesy as hell,” Hiro grinned. “But I love you too. And I don’t deserve you.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Hiro sighed. “You’re just… so talented, and you care about me so much, way more than any boyfriend I’ve ever had. No one I’ve ever been with has tried to show me so much love.” He scoffed. “Hell, you dropped everything at one in the fucking morning just to be with me! Not everyone would be willing to do that for me. I know that for a fact.” Hiro snuggled closer to him, pressing his body against Miguel’s. “You’re too good for this world. You’re like a miracle.” Hiro kissed him passionately. “I really want to show you how much I love you.”

Miguel blushed. “Why don’t you?”

Hiro looked down, embarrassed. “Are you sure?”

Miguel responded with a wordless nod. It seemed that both teens knew what he was referring to. “Yeah. I really think I would like that.”

“You know what I’m talking about, right?” Hiro wasn’t sure if Miguel genuinely was prepared to do this with him again, or if he was confused. “You’re okay with…” His voice drops to a whisper, even though there would be no one to not hear him. “… _sleeping_ with me?” The hairs on Hiro’s neck rose when the words left his mouth. For a split-second, he felt like he’d made a mistake.

“Yeah.” Miguel’s hands rested on Hiro’s hips. “I’d really, really like that.” This early morning seemed to be taking a turn neither of them anticipated, but neither of them wanted to stop it.

Hiro grinned as he kissed his boyfriend gently. “Do you want me to get the shoebox?”

Miguel’s eyes shot open in surprise. “You still have that shoebox?!”

“Of course. It wasn’t cheap, you think I’d throw it away after one use?” Hiro stood up and made his way to the laundry room, finding the black shoebox hidden from plain view and bringing it to Miguel, walking on his knees across the carpeted floor. He was a little ashamed that he’d kept this for so long, but he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it. It contained fond memories of the last time they’d been with each other.

“I really can’t believe you still have this,” Miguel says, briefly hiding his face in his hands in shame. The very _existence_ of this box was shameful and embarrassing--at least to Miguel. To Hiro, doing or keeping things that were wrong or considered “socially unacceptable”--basically, anything that he wouldn't normally do in front of others--was incredibly arousing. Miguel wasn’t as quick to be turned on by these sort of things; he wasn’t as kinky as his boyfriend.

Hiro tentatively opened the box, to reveal the objects that both of the boys were ashamed of.

Inside was a vibrator, a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, a whip, a dildo, a blindfold, and three different sizes of butt plugs, as well as a computer memory card that Hiro hoped he would _never_ lose, as that would be embarrassingly tragic. “You’re really sure you wanna do this?”

Miguel exhaled sharply as he felt himself getting a little hard solely from looking at the sex toys that were inside, especially the memory card. _Good God_ , he hoped the contents of it were _never_ posted to the Internet. “Yeah. I’m sure,” he sighed as he got off the sofa and stood on his knees on the carpeting, next to Hiro. “I’m kind of nervous.”

Hiro raises an eyebrow and he grins with amusement. “Kind of?”

“Okay, I’m very nervous,” Miguel admitted. “It’s just been awhile since we’ve done anything like this.”

“What do you mean?” Hiro sat and looked at his boyfriend. “We’ve sexted a lot, and we had phone sex on, like, Thanksgiving night. It’s not like we’ve been wearing chastity belts or anything.”

Miguel cringed a little. Hiro’s thought process always became significantly more vulgar when he was horny. Since he still wasn’t quite in the mood yet, he found these kinds of things to be embarrassing. “I’m talking about _actual_ sex, Hiro,” he said, refusing to look his boyfriend in the eye. “I mean, last time was…” He blushed when he thought of all the things they’d done together, in Miguel’s home basement.

“…Fucking amazing?” Hiro offered with a few low chuckles. _God,_ he didn’t see Hiro acting like this very often. He could already see the dark lust clouding his eyes. “You were so good, gummy bear.”

Miguel blushes and scoots closer to him. Unsure of how to respond to his boyfriend’s sweet albeit lewd compliments, he asks a new question as he rests his hand on Hiro’s upper leg. “Can we go slow?” Miguel’s nails gently raked along Hiro’s sharp jawline. He looked shy but longing.

“Of course.” Hiro wrapped his arms around him and pressed his body against his, lying down on the floor. Miguel, on top, straddled him. He looked down at his boyfriend, clearly nervous. Hiro raised an eyebrow and snickered.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” he cooed, running his hand through his hair. His voice was heartachingly teasing. “You don’t have to worry about anything. It’s not like anyone’s watching.”

He grimaces. “Except the camera.”

Hiro scoffs. “The camera isn’t an animate object, and it’s not like we posted that sex tape anywhere! Besides, we don’t even have one right now.”

Miguel cringes at the thought of what they’d done in private that night. Seeming to notice his discomfort, Hiro furrows his eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

Miguel sighs. “I’m fine… it’s just… I dunno.”

Hiro sits up, causing Miguel to get off him. He affectionately runs his hand along the muscles of his left arm. “What’s wrong? Did I make you uncomfortable?”

Miguel shakes his head. “No, nothing. You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just…” Miguel trailed off, trying to choose his words carefully. He and Hiro had incredibly bad judgement that night since they were horny. And sexual arousal always causes irrational decisions. “That night, we were both really horny, and we had sex and recorded it… and I’m not saying I _regret_ it, I’m just saying that, now that I look back on that situation and I’m not horny, it’s just… embarrassing. And sometimes I worry about that, I guess.” Miguel cringed; _why did he have to sound so dumb and childish?_

“I get that,” Hiro responds. He hated being vulnerable and open, too, and making a sex tape like that probably wasn’t the best idea, but neither of them _regretted_ it. And no one else has seen it, so he didn’t think there was anything necessarily bad about that decision. It would always be their secret. “I think it’s just… _anxiety_ that’s making you feel that way. Because you really don’t have anything to worry about. I’m your boyfriend, I’m not going to judge you for anything.” He snickered as he glanced back at the shoebox. “Hell, it’s not like _you_ judge me for having a box of sex toys in my basement.” Hiro presses his lips to Miguel’s temple. “Don’t worry.”

Miguel smiled, feeling more relaxed. “Okay. Thanks.” He hugged him and nuzzled his neck.

Hiro grinned as he ran his hands through his hair. “Do you still want to have sex?”

Miguel shivers at Hiro’s touch, trying to indulge in this feeling and push his worries away. His anxiety was completely pointless, anyway; he didn’t need to be worrying about things that wouldn't be causing him harm. “Yeah. I… would _really_ like that.” Miguel was trying to loosen up and chill, but even with the talk he’d had with Hiro, he still felt his anxiety hanging over him like a dark, grey cloud. Trying to distract himself, he pressed his lips against Hiro’s, trying to lose himself.

Hiro was relishing in the Miguel’s scent and the taste of his lips when he got an idea and broke away. “Let’s go into the shower together,” he whispered seductively.

Hiro’s voice sent a tingle down Miguel’s spine, and the sensation sent his blood rushing south. “Really? You’re okay with going back upstairs?”

Hiro hesitated for a moment. “Yeah.” He took Miguel by the hand and stood up, heading up the stairs.

When they reached the end of the staircase, Hiro paused for a moment. Bad memories threatened to take over, but he didn’t want to let the negative emotion win. He was stronger than his fears.

Miguel noticed his hesitations. “Are you okay, _mi corazón?”_

Hiro sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just… doubted myself for a moment, but I’m okay.” The intensity of his arousal had faded away a bit, replaced with slight embarrassment. He ignored it and continued to hold Miguel’s hand, taking him to the bathroom.

Once they were inside, Hiro closed and locked the door (even though no one would be there to walk in on them) and turned to Miguel. Miguel had an adorable blush on his cheeks, and stared down at the floor shyly. Hiro grabs both of his hands and pulls him close, locking lips with him. His hands immediately went under Miguel’s shirt and pulled it over his head. Hiro’s eyes devoured the incredible sight of Miguel’s toned body, running his hands across his abdomen. Hiro kisses Miguel’s neck as he unbuckles his pants and lets them fall to the floor. Miguel tries to fight his nervousness by focusing on Hiro’s scent, and the amazing feeling of his lips just barely sucking on his skin. His body dysmorphia was threatening to kill the intimacy between them, but he wouldn't let that happen. It didn’t matter how _he_ perceived his body, what only mattered was how _Hiro_ perceived him.

Hiro felt some of his own self-consciousness picking at the back of his mind as he discarded his own clothes, as well. He wasn’t as bold and worry-free as he was previously; the decision to come upstairs and confronting the room he’d had a panic attack in killed his excitement a bit, but he wouldn't let it kill this whole moment. Sometimes, he wondered why Miguel even bothered to look at him, or even _pretend_ to like him. He wouldn't be surprised if Miguel told him one day that he never loved him and that he wanted to break up. He was such a difficult person to be with. For the millionth time tonight, Miguel was showing how much of an angel he was for caring about someone so painfully bothersome as him.

Hiro suddenly stops sucking on Miguel’s neck when he remembers something. “What about the shoebox?”

Miguel gasps. “Oh! Right.” He looked down at himself and his boyfriend; who was going to go get it? They were both naked, and there were windows outside that were _not_ obstructed by curtains.

Hiro sighed as he wrapped his bath towel that was hanging on the door around his body. “I’ll go get it,” he says as he opens the door and steps outside. “It’ll only be a minute. Wait here.” Miguel nodded as his boyfriend disappeared down the hallway to retrieve his box of sin.

While Hiro was gone, Miguel was left alone in his bathroom. He was only a little hard from the affection that Hiro had shown him, so he decided it wouldn't be a bad use of his time if he tried to get himself in the mood. He still wasn’t sure why he felt a bit shameful as he began stroking himself; like Hiro said, it wasn’t as if anyone was here to watch him. Only Hiro could see him, and he wasn’t going to harm him in any way. Pushing his insecurities to the back of his consciousness was proving to be a difficult task, but he continued touching himself anyway.

He tried to think of something he knew would make him hard. Miguel tried to think about the last time he and Hiro had phone sex.

It was Thanksgiving night, and it was during an ungodly early hour--he couldn’t recall what it was, but it was definitely past midnight. He and Hiro had been sexting back and forth for a few minutes before Hiro texted him and said he wanted to call him.

Miguel snuck off to the basement and locked himself in the laundry room, where he knew he couldn’t be heard. He called Hiro with his earbuds plugged in.

“Miguel?” Hiro’s voice was hushed and shaky, like he was excited and nervous at once.

 _“Amor,”_ Miguel had moaned. He was already incredibly horny by the time Hiro had picked up. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Hiro responded. His voice was gruff. “What are you doing?”

Miguel let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Just… _thinking_ about you.”

Hiro hummed happily. “What sort of things are you thinking about me?”

The dark-skinned teenager shivered. “I’m thinking about… those pictures you sent me…”

Hiro chuckled lowly. “Come on, sweetheart. I need _details._ You don’t have to be so shy.”

Miguel’s heart began to race. “Wait… what are _you_ doing?”

“Masturbating,” Hiro admitted quickly. “I’m thinking about how much I loved it when you fucked me a month ago, and what I want you to do to me next time…”

His words went straight to Miguel’s dick. He pulled his basketball shorts and underwear down and sat on the floor, stroking his dick. “What do you want me to do to you?”

Hiro thought for a moment. “I want you… to slip your hand down my pants, and rub my dick while you kiss my neck.”

Miguel’s breath hitched as he touched himself, visualizing Hiro’s words in his mind. He pictured them lying on Hiro’s mattress, in the dark, completely alone without anyone to interrupt them. “What else?”

“I want you to take off my jeans and boxers… and tease me with the dildo you keep in the shoebox…”

Miguel was snapped out of his thoughts when Hiro re-entered the bathroom. He was suddenly ashamed of recalling the memory, but he knew he shouldn't be. Miguel was frustrated at all the emotions he couldn't help. “I got the shoebox.”

“Oh.” Miguel let go of his cock, which was leaking precum just from the memory alone, and it was much harder now. “Hey.”

Hiro noticed Miguel's cock. “You seem ready,” he quipped. “Were you touching yourself while I was gone?”

Some of Hiro's boldness and confidence seemed to return as he said this. Miguel was beginning to feel more comfortable around him, albeit if only a little. “Maybe.”

Hiro grins as he sets the shoebox on the floor near the bathtub and turns the water on. He opens the shoebox again and takes out the memory card. “This will probably get damaged if we keep it in here. I'll go put it in my room.”

“Make sure you remember where you put it,” Miguel says as he quickly runs down the hall to his room to put it on his nightstand.

“I put it next to my lamp,” he says when he enters the bathroom again. “Don't worry, I won't lose it.” Hiro pulls Miguel into an embrace and gently brushes his lips against Miguel's, allowing their dicks to press against each other, only making them harder. “Wanna step into the shower?”

Miguel smiled. He really was going to do this with his boyfriend again. “Okay.”

They stepped into the bathtub and let the water from the shower head rain down on them, instantly relaxing their tense muscles, relishing in the water's warmth.

Miguel looked at Hiro in front of him. He was standing under the shower head, and his skin was getting wet. The sight of the water droplets on his smooth, pale skin and lean knots of muscle drove him crazy. Miguel immediately pinned Hiro against the wall, insecurities seemingly flown out the window. _He wanted him badly._

Miguel voraciously locked lips with him, tasting a stronger passion than Hiro had ever previously shown. Both their penises were now fully erect and throbbing; the two boys were desperate for each other.

Hiro took his and Miguel's member and began to stroke them both with his hand, jerking them off together. The feel of his hardness against his own made Miguel moan in pleasure; it felt _fucking amazing._ He found himself wondering why he almost didn't want to do this a short time ago. Through their kisses, Hiro breathed, “Miguel...I want you to suck me off.”

The dark-skinned boy wasted no time as soon as he heard his boyfriend's voice getting on his knees and licking the underside of Hiro's dick. The moans he made were delicious and irresistible; it only made him want to go further. Miguel takes the head of his cock in his mouth and begins to lightly suck. _“Aahh,”_ Hiro moaned in delight. “Please… d—don’t fucking stop, that feels _amazing—aah—!_ ”

His words of contentment made Miguel pick up the pace; he was bobbing his head up and down his member now, trying to fit all seven inches of his boyfriend inside his mouth until he choked. More unbelievably sexy sounds poured out of Hiro until he was panting a warning. “M—Miguel, _hahh_ , I think I'm gonna— _ohhh_ —I’m gonna c—cum!”

As much as he didn't want to, Miguel removed his mouth from his cock, much to the dismay of Hiro. “I won't let you cum yet,” he grinned as he opened the shower curtain and looked in the box. “What toy do you want to use?”

This was a stark contrast from a few minutes ago, when Miguel was saying he was anxious and ashamed for wanting this. He was loving Miguel's blind and impulsive decision making—it was turning him on _so much._

“Give me the vibrator,” Hiro says. Miguel hands him the long, red, silicone sex toy. Both of them loved to use it, though they knew it felt nothing like a real penis. “I want to use this on you.”

Miguel put his hands on the wall and presented his ass to Hiro. “Go ahead, sweetheart.”

Hiro grabbed his ass and spread his cheeks out so he could see Miguel's waiting hole. “Damn, your ass is gorgeous,” Hiro remarks, lightly spanking it. Miguel lets out a small moan.

Hiro aligns the vibrator with his entrance and pushes it in a bit, waiting for some sort of reaction from Miguel. Miguel's eyebrows scrunched up and his lips parted; he looked like he knew what he was about to get slid into him. Hiro continued, pushing the top of the vibrator into his asshole. Miguel let out a whimper of need. “More,” he pleaded. “Don't worry about me, I want the whole thing.”

Hiro wasn't sure if it was the best idea to listen to him, but most of him was too horny to care. He shoved almost half of the device inside him, earning him a loud cry which went straight to Hiro’s cock. The pain from the sudden anal intrusion didn't last long. “Turn it on,” he almost yelled. “Turn the vibrator on.”

Oh, right. This wasn't a dildo, it was a vibrator. Hiro turned the little switch near the bottom of the device to 1, eliciting yet another arousing sound from Miguel. Hiro began pumping the vibrator in and out of his asshole, much to the Mexican boy's content. _“Ohh, yes,”_ he moaned as his left hand flew down to touch his cock. “K—keep doing that, baby…”

Hiro continued to fuck him with the vibrator until he saw a bit of semen leaking from his penis. He immediately turned it off and took the device out of his hole. “Dude, what the fuck?” Miguel spat somewhat impatiently and angrily.

Hiro pulled him into an embrace and kissed him. “Calm down, gummy bear. I don't want you to cum yet.”

Miguel, unfazed by his affection, violently shoved Hiro against the wall and pinned his arms together, above him. “I think those pretty little handcuffs would look nice on you,” he says as he grabs the shoebox to retrieve the pair of fuzzy handcuffs, locking his wrists together above his head. Then, he grabbed his upper legs and spread them out, standing in between them. His penis was perfectly aligned with Hiro's waiting hole. “Ready?” Miguel's eyebrow was raised seductively, and he had lust in his eyes, turning Hiro on. _This_ was the Miguel he had been searching for.

“Yes,” Hiro whispered. “Fuck me.”

Miguel's cock slowly entered Hiro's ass, starting with the tip of his cock. Immediately, an electrifying new sensation overtook the both of them, and they cried out in euphoria. Why the hell hadn't he done this sooner? Why was he resisting so long? This feeling was electrifying, and he only wanted more. He glanced up at Hiro to check for any signs of discomfort. When he showed none, he continued to enter his boyfriend.

“Oh my God,” Hiro panted as Miguel gently pushed inside him. “This…is…” He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. He was in a trance, completely intoxicated by this sensation.

When Hiro was about three inches from bottoming out, Miguel lets go of his legs and the rest of his dick suddenly enters him, eliciting a shout of surprise and ecstacy. “Are you good?” Miguel asked, that look of want still clouding his eyes.

“Yeah,” Hiro breathes.

Miguel begins to move inside and outside of Hiro, grabbing hold of his thighs again and gently thrusting in and out. He moaned, _“Fuck, Hiro—_ you’re so tight.” He was drunk on this fiery sensation he couldn't get enough of. Gradually, he increased the pace until he fell into a comfortable and steady rhythm, accompanied by moans, cries of each other's names, and the sound of their skin slapping together with his thrusts.

Miguel loved the sight of Hiro pushed up against the wall like this, completely at his command. This didn't happen often, since Hiro was generally the bolder person when it came to their relationship. Seeing him breathless, red-faced and helpless, and knowing _he was the one_ that made him like this was such a sexy thought to him, and it made him fuck Hiro faster. Their shouts became louder until they were practically screaming, indifferent to the people outside that—while unlikely—might be able to hear them. Hiro wondered if the potential listeners liked what they were hearing.

Eventually, the amalgamation of their lewd thoughts, noises and sensations was threatening to send them both over the edge. “H—Hiro,” Miguel breathed, “I'm about to c—cum—”

“Me too,” Hiro responds, putting his hands on Miguel's shoulders. He continues moaning as he seems to lose control of his body, going slightly limp against the wall and panting.

Miguel orgasmed, spilling his seed into Hiro, and it felt delicious. He couldn't believe he'd gone so long without that feeling of deep intimacy with his partner. Hiro came at about the same time, squirting his semen on both their stomachs. Miguel pulled out of Hiro's ass and slumped against the wall, incredibly exhausted. _“Corazón…”_

“Holy fuck,” Hiro said, staring at his partner in disbelief. “I… forgot what that felt like.”

Miguel smiled and unlocked Hiro's handcuffs, allowing him to use his arms again. “You're so goddamn beautiful,” Miguel whispers. “I love you so fucking much.”

Hiro kisses Miguel's temple. “Not as much as I love you, gummy bear.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

Hiro laughs. “If you're going to fuck me again, I'm too tired.”

Miguel snickers. “I'll fuck you again, but not now. Sometime later, I'll surprise the hell out of you.”

Hiro hugs him, leaning on his chest. “I look forward to it.” He didn't dwell much on what Miguel would do to him next time, as he wanted to enjoy this present moment he had with him, alone in the shower, together. These were the moments he cherished the most, and he never wanted it to end.

Hiro felt most safe whenever he was around Miguel. Miguel knew how to take care of him right, in every possible way. Once again, his mind drifted back to how he didn't deserve him, and his insecurities began bleeding nack into his consciousness.

He looks up at Miguel. “Love?”

Miguel responds with a soft “hm?”

Hiro stares at his jawline. “Do you really love me?”

“Of course.” He brushes his lips against Hiro's in affection. “Why wouldn't I?”

Hiro's heart warmed. “I just feel like I don't deserve you.”

Miguel grabbed Hiro's face and made sure he was looking into his eyes. “Hiro, you have to know you're an amazing person. There's no one in this world I'd rather be with than you.”

Hiro smiled. “You're the best boyfriend anyone could ask for.”

Miguel nuzzled his nose. “Look who's talking.”

* * *

 

Not long after, Hiro and Miguel finished up their shower and lied in Hiro's bed together, cuddling and sharing the softest of kisses, nowhere near the intensity they'd experienced in the bathroom.

Hiro was in tears from listening to the rest of Miguel's album. Every single song was a work of art, and he wanted to scream and cry at how powerful they were. He was completely speechless and reacted only via sobbing into the pillow they shared.

Miguel lied there, staring at his crying lover with happiness. It didn't get any better than relishing in pure joy with his boyfriend without another care in the world. It felt like a dream, to be able to stand next to this incredible boy and tell everyone that they belonged to each other.

He wished he could take this moment and bottle it in a jar, since time like this with Hiro was always something he never wanted to let go of. Miguel, who was holding Hiro's hand, brings it up to his mouth and softly kisses it. “I really want to marry you.” The words slipped out of his mouth too quickly, and when Miguel realized what he had said, he didn't regret it.

Hiro simply looked at him with an expression of happiness. “We're both still seventeen. We can't get married yet.”

“Well, your birthday is only two weeks after mine,” Miguel points out. “How about I get you an engagement ring for your birthday?”

Hiro giggles. “I would love that.”

Miguel beams. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Hiro snuggled closer to his future husband, looking forward to many more nights he'd be able to do this.


End file.
